Blessings: Departures
Living gratefully today, I notice both the exhaustion and exhilaration of a work week Friday.
The last of the Blessings is a fitting one.
Source of all blessings, you bless us with DEPARTURES--for they are a necessary part of our journey, necessary for arriving. May I be always ready to take leave, always aware that every arrival is a prelude to departure, every birth a step toward dying, and may I thus taste the blessing of being fully present where I am.
I can't arrive at new places without departing from old ones. I can't die if I was never born. Sounds simplistic. Is anything but. The physical departures are easier to grasp. The emotional arrivals and departures have been more defining on my stumbling and humbling human path.
This morning I am also thinking of my sister Mary Jo. A year ago she was departing from her physical existence, her body succumbing to metastatic breast cancer. I saw her for the last time in mid-May. We said our goodbyes. I departed the room where she was laying in bed and went outside, sat on the front steps of their house, and had a good cry. I will never forget those moments.
She died on June 16, 2019. I will never forget the moment my sister Danita's voice came through the phone to tell me of this final earthly departure. I picture Mary Jo arriving at a peaceful place, met by our gentle father.
Lately, we have departed from normalcy with the circumstances of the global pandemic.
All the more reason to taste the blessing of being fully present where I am. If we each do this, at least for a few moments in our day, we will be adding some good to the stream of life, bringing some normalcy to unusual and uncertain times.
The last of the Blessings is a fitting one.
Source of all blessings, you bless us with DEPARTURES--for they are a necessary part of our journey, necessary for arriving. May I be always ready to take leave, always aware that every arrival is a prelude to departure, every birth a step toward dying, and may I thus taste the blessing of being fully present where I am.
I can't arrive at new places without departing from old ones. I can't die if I was never born. Sounds simplistic. Is anything but. The physical departures are easier to grasp. The emotional arrivals and departures have been more defining on my stumbling and humbling human path.
This morning I am also thinking of my sister Mary Jo. A year ago she was departing from her physical existence, her body succumbing to metastatic breast cancer. I saw her for the last time in mid-May. We said our goodbyes. I departed the room where she was laying in bed and went outside, sat on the front steps of their house, and had a good cry. I will never forget those moments.
She died on June 16, 2019. I will never forget the moment my sister Danita's voice came through the phone to tell me of this final earthly departure. I picture Mary Jo arriving at a peaceful place, met by our gentle father.
Lately, we have departed from normalcy with the circumstances of the global pandemic.
All the more reason to taste the blessing of being fully present where I am. If we each do this, at least for a few moments in our day, we will be adding some good to the stream of life, bringing some normalcy to unusual and uncertain times.
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